


You were told to to run away, soak the place and light the flame.

by vyoria



Category: Gideon the Ninth - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: F/F, alternative universe, and by we i mean the GTN discord chat, because we are more keen to fealty bullshit than ACTUAL porn it seems, this was written when work was slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-20 14:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vyoria/pseuds/vyoria
Summary: “Reverend Daughter!” the voice above her booms.She does not dare look up from her position on the floor. Knelt down, eyes downcast, damnable hands splayed on the dirt below her, a scatter of white bone splinters dusting the arena where they fought.“I beg your forgiveness my Lord” she pants, breathless, “I struck out of turn.”
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 7
Kudos: 78





	You were told to to run away, soak the place and light the flame.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [getbreqed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getbreqed/gifts).



> Heavy Metal is *EXTREMELY* romantic and I am not even joking about it.

“Reverend Daughter!” the voice above her booms. 

She does not dare look up from her position on the floor. Knelt down, eyes downcast, damnable hands splayed on the dirt below her, a scatter of white bone splinters dusting the arena where they fought.

“I beg your forgiveness my Lord” she pants, breathless, “I struck out of turn.”

A thick silence permeates the air around them in a suffocating bubble. Beyond the limits of the battlefield she knows the other house heirs bear witness to her shame. Losing to the Prince was to be excused, expected even. Gideon the First sword fighting skills were said (and proven) to be unparalleled and their battle had been nothing short of exhilarating. But to make her _bleed_? No spar or playfight could ever bore to end with the Heir Apparent’s blood if Harrowhark should hope to keep her head between her shoulders.

Or to hope the Ninth would not be extinct after today.

“Struck out of _turn_?” The prince was just as breathless. Harrow took a minute second of pride on pushing her Lord to sweat and disheveled pants--

Before she remembered she was about to be struck down by her insolence. At best.

“Reveren-- Harrow, yeah?” she nodded, “Harrow--” more breaths, a rustling of clothes and a sharp snap of iron against a scabbard, Harrow’s eyes were trained to the floor, and to Gideon’s black leathered boots, “Harrowhark look at me.”

She shivered, “I dare not my Lord.” And closed her eyes for good measure.

A frustrated sigh - a clear sign of her undoing - resounded above her. Harrow counted down the seconds to her last breath.

.

.

.

.

.

.

And gasped as she felt ungloved calloused fingers graze her jaw, below her chin, raising her head forward.

Harrowhark’s eyes snapped open, and she doubly regretted doing so. The eyes staring at her were as bright as the blinding light of Dominicus: a yellow so pure the winking gold of the Third twins jewelry could not compare. They were the colored amber of a beast ready to swallow her whole.

Gideon smiles at her, their breaths mingling together, “You’re good.” She laughs, “I knew you’d be.”

Harrowhark freezes up. “My Lord?”

The fingers holding her chin start trailing a path alongside her jaw, a caress with a warmth that travels down her spine, so potent Harrow has to use necromancy to make sure her bones did not mush into jelly. Her Lord’s smile grows crooked.

“You fight like you’re possessed, I like that” her molten gaze travels down for a few brief moments, Gideon licks her lips, “I want you.”

Harrow’s face breaks down into a red matching her Lord’s hair. She clears her throat before her tongue betrays her. Opens her mouth.

“Before you tell me no,” Gideon the First interrupts, the assumption anyone would dare deny her so ludicrous Harrow has to fight down a bout of hysteria, “will you at least be my escort to the ball?” Her thumb running a circling pattern on Harrow’s left cheek. “I’m going to throw one, before I’ve chosen a suitor.”

Harrow’s brain - wobbly and too busy swimming in bouts of dopamine - grinds to a complete halt. The Emperor’s summons never mentioned anything about _what_ the Heirs of the Nine Houses were supposed to be chosen for.

“A **suitor** ” Harrow fucking hopes her voice didn’t ring the three octaves her ears accused her of. “for what exactly, my Lord?”

Gideon rises from her kneeling position. Her free hand takes Harrow’s other hand, they rise to their feet together. The fingers curled around the Reverend Daughter's jaw remain, caressing her still-red face.

“I need a wife.” she whispers conspiratorially.

“A wife.” Harrow mutters dumbly.

“A wife.”

“What for” she catches herself, “...my Lord?”

Gideon the First presses their foreheads together, her excitement buzzing off of her in waves, her grin as blinding as her eyes, twinkling in the afternoon sun, two bright spots of greed that Harrow has already gauged to be her undoing.

“ **_Because_ ** ,” she proclaims in ecstasy, as if they had been doing something _other_ than sparring, something Harrow wishes she had not caught glimpses of, as they fought. “I’m going to kill my dad.”

The hand caressing her jaw left its place and before Harrow could mourn its loss, Gideon the First’s left arm snaked behind her to hold Harrow by her waist, pressing their lower bodies ever closer. She was strong, her arms solid, her shoulders broad, with a face Harrow only had seen on the statues back on Drearburh, hers and the Necrolord, positioned high above the altar Harrow prayed and held muster every day. She never did imagine she would stand so close as to see any expression displayed on her Prince’s face.

Much less one of naked, pure, delicious murderous delight.

“And I _need_ **_your_** help Reverend Daughter.”

**Author's Note:**

> now I need to fucking run to help do a live program, toodles!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [dance card](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22190257) by [getbreqed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/getbreqed/pseuds/getbreqed)




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